inFAMOUS: Uprising
by WhiteZephyr
Summary: Seven years have passed since the Empire Event, and the DUP have moved in, asserting their control throughout the city of Seattle. One of their "bio-terrorist" prisoners happens to be a young woman named Joan. Stuck in stasis for years, Joan awakens to a world that isn't the one she remembers, and doesn't recall her. But it's every bit as dangerous, and her powers are weak...
1. Prologue

inFAMOUS:

Uprising

Prologue

The night was frigid and cold—colder than what the natives of Seattle were accustomed to. The crisp, withering air shook the bones of the civilians and rattled the teeth of the few geniuses daring enough to wear a T-shirt or less. Many hurried home with the promise of electricity and warmth, while still others found their comforts in frayed cardboard boxes tucked in the corners of back alleys with barrels of dwindling ash pathetically attempting to grow into an open flame.

Lucky enough to be on a patrol that night was a man called Lawrence Church. His employment with the Department of Unified Protection was relatively recent, and the shitty nights he'd patrol that made his toes feel like icicles dangling off his feet made him want to reconsider his decision, but it wasn't like he had much choice. The DUP were the only ones who'd employ him, and the economy sucked, so it was all he had to go on. Besides, he had a wife and two kids to take care of.

That responsibility weighed on him about as heavily as the near-arctic chill, but at least the uniform helped. It wasn't made for the weather, but some new ones were coming in. Until then, he'd gone out of his way to line his colours with a few layers of shirts and a sweater. It limited his movement, he knew, and his SO wouldn't be too thrilled that he wasn't in regulated apparel, but dammit it kept the cold at bay.

Lawrence could see his breath from under his helmet and shook his head at the fading fog. The weather had even stuck his rifle a few times, which would hinder him further in a fight, but chances were his opponents would have jammed weapons as well. And while he wasn't going to rely on that slim chance, he hoped he wouldn't see any action.

His heart suddenly lurched unpleasantly when he spotted three men casually strolling down the sidewalk as if it was the middle of the day without a care in the world. His first thought was that they could be bio-terrorists, but then his eyes wandered onto the patches on their jackets: an apparently painted on white skull with fire leaking from its mouth and eyes. One look at that and Lawrence knew those guys weren't a threat, but their enforcer was. And if Lawrence dared tell them to scurry along or any of that shit, chances are he'd get a front-row seat to his own death. Thankful for the helmet that hid his face, Lawrence merely walked past them and used all of his willpower not to look at any of the three watching him with a superior glint in their eyes.

The people of Seattle knew that gang—hell, the entire state of Washington did. People called them the Plague Brigade, but that was just a playful moniker to make them seem less threatening. They were really called Horsemen, and boasted having an enforcer that embodied all four of the mythical, legendary figures. Lawrence hadn't seen the enforcer himself, but he'd heard stories, and he didn't much like to dwell on them. Since they were brought into the gang five years ago, the Horsemen had been focused on bio-terrorists, like the DUP. That led to a bit of conflict, and often times any that escaped the grasp of Lawrence's employers ended up using their "_abilities_" to wreak havoc throughout Seattle.

The enforcer was no different, but a hundred times more powerful than all of them put together. Rumour was they once lost an entire squad to only the enforcer, and their charred bodies had to be recovered with hazmat suits. Just gently caressing the remaining skin of one of those corpses with a thinly gloved hand felt like the equivalent of sticking one's hand into a fiery inferno. Lawrence knew a guy who was supposedly on the task force to recover the bodies, and he never did quite explain how he got those scars on his hands. Poor guy was out of a job for weeks before he could so much as hold a knife again.

When the Plague Brigade passed, Lawrence checked the clock installed into his visor. Only another fifteen minutes and he'd get to go home to the wife and kids. He picked up his pace, enlightened by the thought, and continued on through Seattle's streets. Warm meal, hot bed... He was glad his helmet only had a camera to see what he was looking at and not some sort of a mind reading contraption that'd let his SO know his mind wandered off... At least, he hoped there was nothing like that.

Ten minutes passed at a snail's pace for Lawrence, and with only five minutes left he felt brazen enough to make his way back to his assigned precinct within the DUP. He'd drop his stuff off and get home. Easy peasy. And there wasn't even a minor incident on that patrol. Although he probably would have felt like time had gone faster if there had been something—.

A crash nearby jarred Lawrence from his thoughts, and he quickly sought to see where the sound had originated. _Please just be some punks throwing rocks at a window...!_ Lawrence realized he'd spoken too soon about his patrol. Two minutes left and he'd just found out he was working overtime. He spotted a fat, slithering vine coiled around the support between two windows on a building. Already he could see a few DUP vans speeding towards it. Lawrence knew immediately that a bio-terrorist had escaped their watchful eye.

Swearing loudly, Lawrence forced the thoughts of comfort from his mind and leapt onto one of the few vacated bars jutting from one of the vans. A few other DUP soldiers greeted him. He tried to reply but was mesmerized by the ever-growing vine rather than the velcro name tags located over their hearts. They took the corners at breakneck speeds that had Lawrence wondering if he'd lose his grip and fly into a streetlamp or something. His palms were sweating under his gloves as they pursued the one making the vines. He thought he could see the bio-terrorist using one of them to get from building to building...

"Go! Go! Go!" The van lurched to a halt, but soldiers were already piling out of the vehicle even before then, rifles raised. Lawrence gulped and followed. The vines had stopped growing, but as they pushed into a warehouse where one of the superior officers had spotted the bio-terrorist enter, Lawrence realized that the building was consumed with overgrowth.

Quietly, Lawrence followed a squad to the eastern area. One of the soldiers muttered something about not chopping their way through, or else the bio-terrorist would know where they were coming from. Lawrence grumbled an agreement, so they took their time picking their way through the slithering vines.

One of the soldiers was coordinating with the other team heading through the western area to sneak up on the bio-terrorist. Lawrence followed him and tried to ignore the unnatural growth spurts the greenery was going through. The weather was now far from his mind, as were the comforts he'd hoped to have by then, replaced now by the shaking of his hands and they erratic way his eyes searched the premises. Lawrence had never once seen a bio-terrorist, and while he'd watched the news seven years ago when he'd only just begun to date his wife and learned about the Electric Man and the destruction of Empire City, he never thought he'd see it in real life. It was like stepping into a movie or a game or some shit like that.

Through all that thinking Lawrence did, neither he nor anyone ahead of him noticed how their numbers had begun to dwindle. Their command centre had lost contact with the guys now dangling from the roof with vines slipping in under their helmets, strangling them and scrambling the signal to boot. Lawrence suddenly felt the hairs on his neck prick upwards and automatically turned to see where the breeze had come from. The feed of missing soldiers from his helmet reached the command centre, and immediately the soldiers were aware of their situation.

They clustered closer together. Lawrence wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of that warehouse—shit, he'd take that freezing cold in his underwear if it meant to get out!—but abandoning everyone with a camera strapped to his head was out of the question, so he sauntered on with the rest of the DUP soldiers. Although his finger was the closest to the trigger.

The soldiers quickly discovered that the bio-terrorist was back against the wall of the warehouse, so there'd be no sneaking up on him. Gulping, Lawrence flexed his fingers and slipped his hand onto the trigger of his rifle.

Immediately, the bio-terrorist's vines leapt upward and latched onto the rifles, yanking them hard out of the grasp of the remaining seven soldiers. A few scrambled away in an effort to escape, but with a wave of the bio-terrorist's hand they were shot upward by the vines and caught by the ones hanging from the roof. Lawrence watched, terrified and rooted to the spot, as those men dangled in the air, screaming for their lives. The bio-terrorist clenched his fist, and on command the vines wrapped around their torsos and squeezed like a snake who'd coiled around a mouse. The men's strangled cries from their radios were transmitted into Lawrence's ears, as well as their death throes. He couldn't move. It took every bit of willpower even to stop himself from fainting. It wasn't a few seconds later that blood rained down from above onto his uniform.

And then, the roof exploded.

Lawrence and the remaining soldiers were blasted back into the shelves consumed with overgrowth. Most found their end then and there with fractured skulls. Lawrence and another soldier were lucky enough to be alive, but the second was soon lost to a surge of flame. Lawrence was the fortunate one to have been blown into cover of the inferno. He clutched his head, his ears ringing loudly as the grogginess attempted to pass. He clung to the remaining bits of himself that were conscious and forced himself to keep his eyes open. Maybe if he could just get some information for the DUP, he could at least have his family taken care of, if he didn't live through this.

Mustering whatever remained of his courage, Lawrence peered towards the bio-terrorist and where that blast had come from, hoping his helmet cam was getting what he was seeing. The bio-terrorist wasn't alone, and he'd been easily overpowered by a person in a faded brown leather jacket, and on the back of that jacket was the Horseman logo. Fires were flickering around the warehouse and licking the vines away until they were nothing more than charred bits of nothing. The bio-terrorist was on his knees, his fists caught by the hands of who Lawrence could only guess was the famous enforcer of the Horsemen.

With a clear view of them both, Lawrence saw that the bio-terrorist was in his mid-thirties, like himself, with dirt smeared across his unkempt face. He was in an orange jumpsuit that he'd seen a few other bio-terrorists wearing back in some prison compounds the DUP had across the city. Otherwise, beyond his light brown hair and defiant eyes, and his "abilities", there was nothing really incredible about him. Hell, he could've walked down the street in civilian clothes and Lawrence wouldn't have a second thought about him. Or a first, come to think of it. Just how many bio-terrorists looked as harmless as him? How many were still roaming the streets of Seattle? Those thoughts unsettled Lawrence—that his wife could be going to work or his kids to school with those... _things_.

He only now thought of them as "things" because of the enforcer. From his angle, Lawrence saw the enforcer had bright green eyes and clumps of short, thick red hair sticking out from under the black hood they wore, which was connected to a hoodie underneath their leather jacket, and a biker mask with a skull's jaw motif was hiding the lower-half of their face. Their dark blue jeans were faded around the knees, and in their black, knee-high leather boots, Lawrence could see their shins were padded. But the reason for his uneasiness with the enforcer was their hands. The enforcer had caught the bio-terrorist's punches while Lawrence was recovering from the ringing in his ears, but they'd caught him with what looked like molten rock acting as a sort of armour or reinforcement for the enforcer. He could see the fire pulsating beneath the rock—smell the bio-terrorist's flesh burning. God, Lawrence just wanted to get out of there. But his ringing head and the potential death lingering ahead kept him rooted to the spot.

The enforcer leaned close to the bio-terrorist. Lawrence held his breath.

"Merrick Pierson."

A name. Just a name. The name of the bio-terrorist. Lawrence clenched his fists and realized how sticky they were. The sweltering heat inside the warehouse was making him reconsider the layers of clothing he had under his colours.

The bio-terrorist, face contorted in pain, sneered up at the enforcer. "W-What about... me...?"

"Davin Warrick's giving you a choice, Merrick," the enforcer said evenly. "Stay with these sparkling examples of humanity, or be part of those who really appreciate your gifts."

Lawrence saw the enforcer's grip lessen, and then the molten rock shattered and hit the floor. He spotted fingerless leather gloves on the enforcer's hands. Merrick gasped in relief when the enforcer released his fists and cradled his scarred hands to his chest. He glared indignantly at the enforcer.

"And why... should I come... and run with someone like you...?" he rasped in challenge.

The enforcer tilted their head left. "You're mistaking me for someone who desires to work with you, Merrick," they replied in the same tone as before. The enforcer wasn't offended by his remark. Rather, they acted indifferent, like he'd just asked them the time of day. "But Davin wants someone like you on his side. Think of it as an investment into a better future. One without four blank walls and the DUP looking to create a zoo of freak shows."

Merrick's nostrils flared at the mention of the DUP. Lawrence sidled into cover a bit more, suddenly wary of his position. "Someone... like me...?" he repeated.

"Someone who's looking to do as much damage to the government's dogs as possible." The enforcer offered their hand, which Merrick stared at. "Choose. This hand will either welcome you or turn you into a broken pile of bones."

With a considerable amount of effort to ignore the pain, Merrick grasped the enforcer's hand, and he was hefted onto his feet. The enforcer clapped him on the back.

"Welcome to the Horsemen, Merrick," they said. "There's a van waiting outside. Get there before the DUP have their reinforcements here."

Merrick nodded and limped to where the enforcer had pointed, but stopped midway to look back at his new comrade, who'd taken out and lit a cigarette.

"Are you... the only one?" he managed.

The enforcer snuck the cigarette under the mask without even bothering to lift it. "Nah," they replied. "There's one or two more in the gang."

"So... how am I... going to find you again?"

"You won't. I'll find you, if I need you." They took a long drag. "Which I won't." Smoke escaped through the enforcer's nose, but as they tapped the ashes away, they added, "But if you're sent to find me, most people call me Zombie. Others... well..." They took another puff and let the smoke trail out of their nose again. "If someone higher-up ever tells you to find me, like your new friend Davin Warrick... Ask for Joan."

Merrick nodded and hurried to the van. Finishing her cigarette, she flicked it in Lawrence's direction. The butte landed near his leg. He inhaled and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping she wouldn't have seen him.

"And you, behind those barrels." Lawrence's heart hammered in his chest. He could feel tears begin to brim when she mentioned him. God, why now? Why _now_?! "You just make sure your SO got whatever you caught here. Don't underestimate us again, you ignorant fucks."

An explosion of flame erupted throughout the warehouse as the enforcer launched herself into the air on a spurt of flame. Lawrence didn't dare watch her retreat, didn't grab his rifle and sure as shit didn't make a move until the reinforcements finally got to the warehouse after what seemed like an eternity. Absolute, undiluted fear shot through his system.

Lawrence Church was the luckiest goddamn man alive. _Alive_.


	2. Awaken

Chapter One:

Awaken

_"So, as of now, I don't exist?"_

_ "I don't give my name to crazy people. _Especially_ when they run around in skimpy outfits. And when they have tongues like _that_. Maybe you should just close your mouth, 'kay?"_

_ "I'm serious! Go! I'll be fine!"_

_ "So did I. I mean, you don't really expect to still be breathing when you blow yourself up, right?"_

_ "Hey, I've been back from the dead once. Who's to say I can't do it a second time?"_

_ "Angel? Oh, please. That guy was nothing more than scum."_

_ "I won't. When have _I_ ever done anything stupid, Cole?"_

_ "I'm not... letting anyone else... get hurt!"_

_ "Major flaw in us... Kayce! We... never plan ahead... which means you never... saw this coming!"_

My left hand twitched slightly in its attempt to move. My head, searing with residual headache pain, slowly fell back. I couldn't feel; only understand I was moving. I couldn't breathe; only know I was alive.

Alive... but not living.

"—shutting down Curdan Cay." I heard a voice unfamiliar to me. I strained to hear, but could only catch snippets of a conversation.

"I know..." A reply. Someone else was here... Where was "here"? "It's that bio-terrorist... the one... Augustine... Delsin Rowe..."

Delsin Rowe? Augustine? More... _confusion_. Those people... who were they? The ones outside...

_Where am I?_

"—need to get out... coming to free them..."

_Free who?_

I vaguely remembered the dream from before. It felt like an eternity to watch, but... now it felt like a mere second had passed.

My hand twitched again. It didn't go unnoticed by the two conversing nearby. I fought and struggled to stay awake, clinging to the voices instead of the dream. The voices became the only certainty—the only chance—I was awake.

The voices came closer.

"—terminate program?"

"No!" The voices became clearer. I wasn't just picking up on a few small things anymore. That was a relief. I was really waking up. "Do you know how long this project's been active?! Shutting it down loses us nearly five decades of research!"

"Which means nothing if they get out! I'll shut it down myself!"

"You'll only be shutting this one down then. The mainframe was in Empire City. So unless you're planning to take the time to shut each one off individually, _we need to go_!"

My head slowly tilted to the side. _Empire City? _I thought. _That's... I know that place._

"... I suppose you're right. The door to this thing—." A hand slammed near my head. The echo told me that I was in some sort of... box? Machine, maybe. "—won't open unless from the outside. And there's a code to it. Chances are, K-423 will drown before she wakes up."

_Die?_

I couldn't hear anything anymore. The voices had stopped. But sounds were still there. I began to rely on them instead of the absent voices in the hopes I'd stay awake. I could feel my heartbeat pick up at the thought of... of _dying_, and not even knowing where I was—_who_ I was!

No... I knew who I was. It was slowly coming back to me. But... was what I saw a dream? Memories?

_I need to wake up._

With a monumental effort, I forced my eyes open. They immediately stung from the liquid substance within the... the machine. But even though it hurt, even though I felt like closing them just to relieve the pain, I needed to see.

Outside, past the blue-green hue of the screen of the machine, was a long white table with various tanks stacked on top. Medical records and red file folders were scattered against the counters, each with numbers and letters that meant complete gibberish to me.

_Get out of here._

Yeah. I needed to escape.

I took a deep breath out of the mask feeding air to me and clenched my hands into fists. I needed to break the glass, if what that man from before said was true... So with barely any velocity to work with inside, I tried to figure out how to do that. Maybe there was an emergency hatch, or a fallback program I could work with to force an override...

It was at that very second that I lamented my lack of computer skills.

And then I felt something... building up. Almost like rage, but without the raw emotions. Without the heaviness. It built up in my chest, warm at first, but then it began to burn.

I tried to scream. The mask stopped me from doing that. The sounds outside—I could hear a heart monitor pick up its pace. The heat got so bad my hands had begun clawing at my chest.

And then it burst.

_/-\\_

I was in a daze for the next few days. The burning sensation had remained, even after it had exploded the machine I'd been trapped in. I could hardly remember much after that beyond taking a blood-stained lab coat off a corpse and staggering my way out of what they called Curdan Cay. A prison of sorts, but not like I'd ever seen... or remembered.

I walked down a desolate road completely barefoot. The flesh on the soles of my feet were raw and tender, and they were being dragged from the effort of walking, but it was better than when I'd first picked a direction and started walking. I fell a few times and scraped the skin from my knees. It was too clear to me that I wasn't exactly used to walking... which confused me. Because the dream—memories?—insisted I'd been awake and walking for years.

God, the heat. It almost seemed to intensify and then slowly decay, but it would return with a vengeance. I fell into the grass in the ditch on the side of the road once and used a tree to support me while I stood. But where I touched the bark, it had almost seemed to melt. Embers dotted the edges of the blackness that burned it. The tree fell when I was further down the road.

What was I, stupid? I had no idea where I was going. All I knew was I needed help. I was too weak and desperate to do anything on my own. And the heat—the relentless, decimating heat—was building up again. I was sweating, but it was hidden by the cool, cascading rain. My feet and hands were freezing. I was exhausted, starving... The isolation and emptiness of that tank-like machine I'd been "stored" in suddenly seemed much less confining with the promise of sleep.

_So much pain... So much _pain_..._

It wasn't long before I could hear the roar of engines in the distance. I'd seen a few vans with the same sounds pass before and it had been enough to duck into the woods to avoid them, but that was when I wasn't so distracted with the burning. And ahead I could see a large factory, no doubt for fish since it was near the edge of a cliff. Further down was a colourful longhouse with people casually chatting and enjoying each other's company under a veranda shielding them from the receding rain.

I paused in the slowing surge of droplets and drew the lab coat more tightly around my freezing and burning body. My insides were on fire, but my outsides were begging for warmth. Complicated and annoying. I wanted it to end.

The engines were coming closer. Mustering my strength, I made to head for the factory. I was too slow, and I knew it. The vans carrying the men with guns would be on me soon.

I could dimly remember them from my escape. So intent on catching me... Why? New fear drove me forward. I thought about cutting through the woods but saw a fence guarding the factory, and even if I'd melted the fence it was likely those men would see the glow...

_So now what?_

More noise. More rumblings. More pain.

It took me a second to realize I'd stumbled into the middle of the road. I was too tired to keep moving, too hungry to think beyond the pain rising in my chest. And the vans were coming. I begged my legs to move, but they were rooted to the concrete. It got to the point where I just gave up. The pain was too much. Too intense... Too much.

The vans screeched loudly around the bend and hurdled towards me. One skidded around me vivaciously , and two more parked behind me. Immediately a dozen men leapt out of the vehicles and had their weapons pointed at me. One bald man in a long trenchcoat strode towards me, eyeballing me. I was too weak to stare him down. Instead, I fixed my gaze on his boots. New, from the looks of them.

"You need to come with us," he called. "We won't hurt you. We want to keep you safe."

My gaze rose from his boots to the guns. Safe? Is that why they're pointing guns at me? I peered at the people at the longhouse who had halted their conversations to watch the scene two-hundred feet away unfold. One man in a red beanie and jean vest was just exiting the longhouse, and was approached by another man.

The examination I was doing halted as soon as I noticed the bald man began to approach closer to me. "We have no intention of hurting your kind, miss. But we must keep everyone safe."

The burning rose. One of my hands reached up to cling at my chest. I gritted my teeth and withheld a cry of pain.

"You... want to keep... everyone safe?" I inquired. "Then... step... away...!"

"Don't use your powers, miss. We'll be forced to act."

It burned. God, it _burned_. It was as if someone had stabbed a white-hot iron blade into my chest and twisted it around for fun.

"Not... my choice..." I looked at the bald man desperately. "It's burning... so much...!"

"Miss, don't you dare—!"

"I can't believe you Dupes are still trying to round up us Conduits, even after the good old government's cut your funding."

The man with the red beanie. Up close, I could see he was slender, and younger than I'd figured he was. He had a cocky grin that seemed stuck to his face, as if he'd been born with that look, and a black and light blue tribal tattoo on his left arm. Underneath his jean vest was a grey sweater and a red plaid shirt. His jeans were a bit torn up, and his sneakers appeared well-worn... He was the very picture of teenage rebellion, although I doubted he was as young as a teen.

But there was something about the man in the red beanie that made the bald man jump and draw his pistol from the holster on his hip. "Dammit! It's Rowe!"

The guns immediately turned from me to him. He smirked at them and crossed his arms. "Wow," he said sarcastically. "You guys know me by heart now? I'm touched. Really, I am. But you'll leave this Conduit alone. If you do..." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll let you go without a scratch. If you don't... You're going to see why even Augustine couldn't beat me."

"Don't listen to him!" the bald man shouted at the soldiers. "He's the bio-terrorist who ruined our progress for the last seven years! He's nothing but a punk piece of shit!"

I stumbled and fell to my knees. It was too much... Too much pain... Too much heat... It burned...!

The man in the red beanie's eyes widened. "Um... Not to alert you guys or anything, but maybe you should, um, get a medic for her?"

For a second time, the heat burst. I saw the man in the red beanie disappear in a puff of smoke, and instantly I felt hands on me, even though the soldiers and the bald man were tossed by the shockwave into the woods and hard into their vehicles. A hand grabbed mine, and instantly a new pain surged. I felt like I was coming apart, and then I felt... someone. In my head, poking through... everything. I could see what they were seeing. The dreams... They came back stronger. Now I _knew_ they were memories. But so much was confusing. So much didn't make sense. It didn't belong.

But a third burst fired from my body, and the hands flew off. I collapsed on the concrete, gasping for air and feeling my energy drain from me. My eyes fought to stay open, but I couldn't see. My hands slid against the ground, but I couldn't feel. It goes without saying that I wasn't thinking straight either.

I could sense someone nearby. He groaned audibly and slowly made his way onto his knees. And soon I heard footsteps running towards us. I managed to focus my eyes onto the man in the red beanie, who was leaning over me in a daze.

I knew it was him. He was the one who'd looked into my head. He was the guy... that Delsin Rowe character I'd heard those men talk about a few days ago, when I'd just awoken in that tank.

What was his importance? Who was he, exactly?

Those thoughts were too much for me, and my eyes closed fully as a result. No doubt the soldiers were dead... I'd killed the others in close proximity to me when I'd escaped. I didn't mean to kill. I didn't mean to hurt them. It was just happening.

So I hoped with every fibre of my being that Rowe could be my ally.

I feebly tried to move. I felt a hand on my shoulder briefly. It felt like the same one that had grabbed my hand. Rowe.

"H-Help..." I whispered feebly.

And then it all went dark.


	3. Akomish

Chapter Two:

Akomish

I must have woken up days later, but in a much different setting and scenario than I had before, when I woke up in that tank. The first thing I saw there was a colourful roof with black creatures depicting animals in an almost tribal form. It smelt wooden and rustic, like it had been around for at least a decade. But most of all, it felt comforting. Not at all like back at the… whatever it was. Prison, maybe. Definitely a holding facility of some sort. But this was a hundred-thousand times better than waking up in a stupid tank.

Well, even though it felt like I'd been run over by a herd of cattle. Other than that.

A few minutes after I'd woken up and taken my bearings, an elderly Native-looking woman somehow appeared at my bedside. I'm not saying she had any Conduit powers; she may have been there before I'd noticed. And she was quiet, anyhow. Engrossed in an old book I hadn't ever heard of. She looked the librarian type with the long grey braid she'd tied up, but wore plaid work clothes and a long, once-colourful skirt that had long since faded. Her hands were calloused and rough, hinting at a lifetime of hard work outside, but she didn't have the book in a death grip. Her dark eyes were skimming the pages at a decent pace, enthralled with the story.

But the moment I looked over at her and tried to set my vision straight, she gently set her book down and smiled in a very motherly way. The wrinkles on her face deepened when she did, but it only seemed to add to her charm, like the way her eyes lit up.

"How're you feeling, dear?" asked the woman while she reached for a glass on the nightstand beside the cot I was resting in. "Hope you're feeling better. You've been out for a few days."

My throat was tight and rough, making it difficult to speak. It was like cheese graters wrestling each other. But that woman must have been an angel; she gave the water in the glass to me.

"Drink it slow," the woman instructed me sternly, but not in a way that made me feel small or insignificant. Just in a voice that made me want to listen. When I took long and (painfully) slow gulps from the glass, the wrestling match subsided. Soon as it did, I went against her orders and chugged the rest like I'd never drank plain water in my life.

Oh, the delicious coolness...

When I placed the glass down onto the nightstand, the woman had her arms folded and a grey eyebrow raised at me. _That_ made me feel small and insignificant.

Score: lady one, me nothing.

The woman adjusted herself in her seat to get more comfortable and then settled for linking her ankles together. "My name's Betty," she said, and then asked, "What's your name?"

I massaged my throat with a hand and sat up in a more comfortable position. "I-I'm..." It took me a long few seconds of recollection. The dreams, the voices, the facility... Name... What had those men said? K-4—something-something? Not a name... A designation, yeah. But the name—ah!

"I'm... Joan," I said slowly, and then nodded, certain of it. "Yeah... Joan... I remember that... Joan... McDonald? Oh, that's not right... Joan...!"

I felt a hand on my arm that squeezed gently. Betty's smile remained on her face, unwavering and welcoming. Warm against the coldness in my head. There was calm, and I intended to relish it even for only a moment. An ally... A friend... Someone I could trust. Someone I didn't want to hurt. Not like those men—.

My eyes widened. "I... I killed them..." I whimpered silently. "O-Oh god! I _murdered_ them!"

Another reassuring squeeze. Another smile, but the look in Betty's dark eyes changed from friendliness to resolve.

"Don't think about that," mumbled Betty in a quiet voice. "That was an accident. You couldn't help it. Delsin told me about what happened, and even though I can only imagine how you feel, you should know that you didn't mean it."

I took a minute to calm down, hoping that the difficulty I had breathing was just a side-effect of that tank-thing. But Betty waited patiently and let me get my bearings. Now that I wasn't feeling so blind, I began examining the area a bit more.

I was clearly inside a Native longhouse, but I wasn't sure which tribe. I'd expected something other than hospital beds spaced out within the room though. It was as if an epidemic had passed through, and the entire town had been afflicted.

Betty noticed where my eyes went. "We had some trouble a couple weeks back," she told me while gesturing to the beds. "There was a woman—Augustine—who was after some escaped Conduits. When Delsin tried to help, he found out he was a Conduit. And when he tried to tell her that he'd become one to save us, she practically ignored him. Our people, the Akomish, were tortured with her powers. We would have died if Delsin hadn't gone to face Augustine and take her powers."

"Take her powers...?" I repeated, a bit bereaved.

A corner of Betty's mouth tipped upwards. "If Delsin touches another Conduit, he can take their powers."

"Did... Did he take mine?"

"Seems like you somehow got him... stuck."

"Stuck?"

"Oh, he's quite annoyed. I remember seeing him like this when his brother Reggie took away his toys as a child. It's the same concept, really." Betty smirked again. "When he accidentally absorbed your powers, you stuck him on his smoke abilities. And trying to get his other powers back has been... unsuccessful."

"Yeah, to say the least."

Leaning against a well-tended artful pole in the longhouse was the young man from earlier, red beanie and all. But this time he had a scowl, and it appeared to be a pout of sorts. He had similar features to the woman Betty, like dark hair and tanned skin, as well as dark eyes, but they didn't immediately strike me as related, so I assumed they weren't.

"Delsin," greeted Betty. "I didn't hear the door—."

"—The vents," Delsin explained with a nonchalant shrug.

Betty rolled her eyes. "Okay, mister Conduit. Just because you can turn into tiny bits of ash does not make you above using the door like normal people so you don't scare old women."

"Sorry Betty," the young man said in a long, drawn-out tone—one that hinted he apologized often. "I'm just trying to figure the entire thing out."

"But you can use your smoke powers fine!"

"Yeah, that's the problem!" Delsin gestured to me, frustrated. "_She_ made them better, but I've got nothing else! I might have to head all the way back to Seattle to give Gene and Fetch a handshake, but there's crazy Conduits running around the place! _And_ I just happened to get my butt royally kicked by one of those stupid enforcers for that dumbass gang!"

"Delsin—."

"Language, I know. Sorry Betty."

Betty wagged a finger at Delsin Rowe, a stern look crossing her brow. "Nobody got anywhere complaining, Delsin. How about you grab some tea—I brewed some by the bed—and sit with us?" Betty hardly waited for him to answer before she shoved a mug of tea into his hands (piping hot, not that it seemed to bother him) and sat him down in a second chair she'd moved near the bed. Delsin frowned, defeated, and sipped the beverage.

"Tea?" Betty asked me.

Swirls of unfamiliar scents within the brew caught my attention, so I nodded and shared a cup with the two. Betty seemed quite content and happy with how it came out. Delsin was sipping while making absolutely sure I wasn't going to do whatever he was thinking I was going to. Honestly I had no idea. He was staring at me like a starved fat man would an all-you-can-eat buffet, but completely devoid of joy.

My throat seemed to clear now that I'd had the tea, so I began scanning my brain, trying to figure out the images I'd seen, the voices I'd heard. Names danced on the tip of my tongue but refused to make themselves known. Locations I'd long since forgotten slowly simmered into view. People... faces... the things I could do. The people I'd killed. The ones who'd wanted to kill me. It all seemed so familiar yet so strange, but I seemed to know none of it. It was like I was trying to hook a fish in a school while they aimlessly swam in a barrel, and yet none of them seemed interested in the hook that dangled in the water. It was frustrating to no end.

Delsin's cell phone suddenly rang. He excused himself from the glare Betty gave him and answered, pressing the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Yo man, I heard you were in town a few hours ago," a familiar southern accent chimed.

"Well, yeah," answered Delsin, "but I had to get going. Couldn't stay. Those Horsemen have been combing that place like bees in a hive. I'm a pretty popular guy in Seattle, in case you didn't know, man."

A laugh. So... So familiar... "Well, lemme know when you get your ass back here. I'd say it's about time we met face to face, since I ain't on the Dupe hit-list any longer, now that they're disbanding. Thanks for that, by the way. Those assholes had it coming."

"Don't mention it. It only took defeating a crazy concrete lady."

"Hey, Cole had to fight _himself_, _and_ the Beast. It was pretty crazy all right."

The Beast... Cole...

Then, the man on the phone was... Zeke? Zeke... Dunbar... Dunbar!

"Zeke?" I asked tentatively.

Delsin raised an eyebrow, but put the southerner on speakerphone. "Somebody else there?" Zeke asked.

My eyes widened. I remembered that tub of beer and crap stories, but only vaguely. Still, I could picture him in his stupid coats and sunglasses, and not to mention the atrocious sideburns on his face. How long had it been since I'd heard his voice? I couldn't be happier to listen to that dumb accent of his that made him sound like a backwater hick.

I cleared my throat. "M-My name's Joan," I replied.

I waited a minute, then Zeke replied with, "Nice to meetcha, Joan. You a friend of Delsin's?"

My heart plummeted in my chest and right down to my pinkie toe. Delsin seemed to notice the crestfallen look on my face and answered, "Yeah. She's a Conduit. I was just telling her about you when you called."

"Oh," Zeke said. "Well, I hope to meet up with you too, girl."

Betty squeezed my arm again, her dark eyes filled to the brim with concern while Delsin took the call outside. How could Zeke not remember me? Granted, I barely remembered him. But that's because I was in a... a _tank_!

And he mentioned... Cole... Why was nothing piecing together?!

"You know that man?" Betty asked me, giving me another reassuring squeeze.

"I..." Answering seemed nearly impossible. Did I? Had I at all? There seemed to be no clear answer. I just wanted to... to figure everything out! Why was it all so hard?! "I think... I don't know. I know his name and his face, but... _Argh_! _I don't know_!"

My hands shook so violently that the tea fell from my hands and slipped onto the bed, the cup falling uselessly to the floor. In shock I recoiled but accidentally seemed to shoot a fireball and set the bed aflame. Betty was up in an instant and grabbed a fire extinguisher. I didn't even have the heart to get angry or annoyed with her when she doused both me and the bed in the cloud-like foam. I doubted she'd even intended to hit me.

"Oh! Sorry, dear," Betty exclaimed as she rushed for a different blanket, and some towels. "I just—."

"I know," I muttered, sighing. "I know."

Betty handed me a washcloth, but held one herself and gently rubbed some foam off the side of my face, smearing it until it disappeared. Then she smiled and stroked a hand through my hair.

"We'll figure it out," she said. "I promise. You'll remember everything soon enough."

_/-\\_

I spent a whole week in the Akomish village while I tried desperately to remember everything I couldn't, to control powers I no longer understood. I felt like I'd been thrust into the world for the sole purpose of being a confused mess.

Betty and Delsin were kind, despite Delsin's often annoyed attitude directed at me for sticking him with one power. Well, one power he could control, so I didn't see why he needed to be complaining. Meanwhile, I learned about their history and their people. If I wasn't consumed by agitation at my lack of memory I was lead on by curiosity. I ate up books and stories like they would sustain me better than food. I felt the need to catch up on past events.

It took a while, but after some very sly convincing on my part, Delsin handed me his phone on the deck of the longhouse.

"And you're not gonna blow it up, right?" he asked in a condescending tone.

I glared at him. "Who're you, my _brother_? Trust me. Just surfing the web."

He scoffed. "Yeah, no one says that anymore, lassie."

"Are you Scottish or Akomish?"

"Never know. Could have some highlander blood in me."

"Yeah, _sure_. Well, you're wearing your kilt on your head, Braveheart." Delsin frowned and tapped his beanie, as if to comfort it from the insult. "Look, I'll only be a..." I glanced at the date. "What's this?"

"Hm?" The young man leaned over me to see. "Uh... You mean the date?"

I nodded. "It's... It's not _really_ that year, right?"

Frowning, Delsin commented, "Don't tell me that you also have time-travelling powers too..."

"I don't," I assured him quickly. Then I amended, "At least, I hope not..."

"Well, what's the last year you remember?" prompted Delsin.

"2007," I replied. "That was... seven years ago."

"Hey! You can count!"

I glared at him. "I'd insult you further, but I need to see what I missed. Can't believe you guys don't have computers..."

Delsin's lip twitched, but he shrugged it off. "Reception sucks out here, anyway. It's better in Seattle." While I began typing to get to Google (one of the only things that seemed to remain constant, and the only corporation people were completely fine with ruling the world. Hey, it's true), Delsin glanced over my shoulder. "So... What'd the doc say when he took a look at you?"

The Akomish (meaning Betty, since the rest were kind of leery of me. Couldn't blame them; I'd killed a squad of D.U.P. with uncontrollable fire) had called in a doctor to take a look at me. He took some samples of my blood and skin, processed it all, and declared me healthy, albeit with the Conduit gene (genius!). And he even managed to place my age: twenty-four.

God, I was torn between feeling young and old at the same time. And I had no idea why.

"He told me my age, expressed I had special powers, and moved on," I grumbled while I rifled through articles. "I don't even have blood on file, but I suspect it's linked to that tank. Geezus, I'm getting a serious case of deja vu..."

"A tank? Like..." Delsin made smoke appear between his palms, expanded it and then made a sorry replica of an explosion sound with his mouth while the smoke dissipated.

I looked at him like he was a two-year-old. "No... The one you float in like a lab experiment."

"Oh. That explains why you have the memory of a goldfish."

"I'm going to kick your ass until your smoke particles are sore, Delsin."

He crossed his arms and waited for me to finish finding what I was looking for. Eventually on the third page of Google (shocking, I know; no-man's-land) an article popped up. It had the name "Cole" plastered on it.

"Cole? Zeke mentioned that name before." Delsin tapped his fingers against his arms while he bit his lip in thought. "I think the government was spewing some crap about him a few years ago, too."

I selected the article and waited for it to load. "Thing is, I _know_ Zeke. I know I do. And Cole... the Beast... It rings a really, _really_ quiet bell in my head that's just begging to get louder."

"Sure it's not just the bells of insanity?"

Ignoring that comment, I began rifling through the webpage. It was a typical underground movement article chastising the government's decisions and whatnot. Nothing really made the people happy—they just needed something to complain about. So I tried to ignore the common crap and find where Cole was mentioned. After a few silent minutes, I found it.

_"Let's not even get started on the way you've outlawed the hero Cole MacGrath. His bravery outshone the seats you polish for yourselves. The Beast is dead by his hand—the hand that also sacrificed his own life to do it. Conduits died because of his actions, but it was to save you pieces of shit hiding under your silk bed sheets and the human race. Cole died, the Conduits managed to survive, and how the hell do you fucks repay them?! You call them freaks and treat them worse than animals! Rot in hell, you sons of bitches! Cole MacGrath, a terrorist? You're looking at the wrong end of the barrel, assholes."_

"MacGrath..." My brow tensed. "I remember... Right. Cole. They sometimes called him the Lightning Man."

"Know him, too?" Delsin prompted.

"Zeke's best friend," I clarified for him. "They were partners in crime years before Cole got his powers from the Ray Sphere... From the First Sons. And their leader..." Didn't Zeke say something about Cole fighting himself?

Delsin took his phone back. "Were they a lot like those Horsemen in Seattle?"

I shook my head. "No. They'd been around for years, passing on the family business. I remember... Alden. He was a boy at the time he was ousted by the last leader, and an old man by the time Cole took care of him."

"You seem to know a lot about that," pointed out Delsin.

"It's the clearest thing in my head right now," I admitted, then amended, "Well, besides the last few days."

Flicking through his phone, Delsin shrugged again and shoved it into his pocket. "Anything else? Betty asked me to try and help you remember stuff, anyway."

"I dunno... But I think... My last name. It was MacGrath, too."

Delsin raised an eyebrow at me. "Coincidence? I think not, right?"

"I doubt it. I think I had family ties to him, but whenever I try to think about it my head gets confuzzled."

"Like now? Confuzzled isn't a word."

"Well, neither is 'smoketastic'."

"Better than Banner Man."

I bit the inside of my cheek. "I know I'm getting closer. Whatever happened at Empire City and New Marais, I know it's connected." I began tapping one of my fingers against the banister of the deck while I stared out at the ocean. Thankfully, just looking at that scene calmed my nerves. My frustrations left, allowing me to think clearly and breathe deeply. "If it's all right with you, I want to meet up with Zeke too. I have questions that need to get answered."

Delsin sighed and made some sort of clicking sound with his lips. "Then... You're coming with me to Seattle? Seriously? Not gonna freak or anything, even though there's still Dupes running wild and Horsemen playing chicken with Gene, Fetch and I?"

I grinned. "My memories might be confusing to me, but I know one thing..." I turned to look at him, grinning. "My blood's boiling for a fight. And I'm ready for it."


	4. Seattle

Chapter Three:

Seattle

Betty hugged us both good-bye when the bus came to take us to Seattle. In all honesty, the return I gave her was an awkward one, but I had all good intentions. I mean, c'mon, I still just met the woman!

So we piled onto the bus with some luggage over our shoulders (Betty, in her ridiculous generosity, had taken me to an outlet mall and bought me some clothes to help out, since I was basically only clad in an ass-showing hospital gown from the moment I woke up at the longhouse. And, let's face it, the bloodstained lab coat I took from the corpse of a scientist wasn't the best first impression I could make). Thankfully I was wearing something I liked: a red-brown windbreaker that only went as far as my second-lowest rib with short sleeves, sneakers, dark blue jeans and a light tee. Delsin took the window seat while I sat closest to the aisle, a small, one-person gap between us. The bridge, once destroyed to (apparently) keep Delsin out, had been rebuilt in record time. Amazing what construction workers can get done when they're actually working and not sword-fighting with traffic cones... Or that a certain _someone_ with concrete powers (or _had_, since I guess I took them away somehow) rebuilt it.

Delsin cleared his throat a few times. At first I just thought he was coming down with something, but then I realized he was trying to "subtly" get my attention. I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Something up?" I asked the master of subtlety.

He removed his red beanie to scratch his head. His dark hair was thick and stuck to his head, no doubt from the over-use of his hat. "I was wondering if you wanted to talk. If it helps you remember anything..."

I tapped my chin. "I think I've had amnesia before."

"Bad luck?"

"No, it's just... fuzzy. Like, I think it happened, but it didn't. Kind of like when you think you asked someone to do something, but you spent so much time imagining it you think you did when you actually didn't."

Delsin needed a second to process that. He wasn't stupid, but _I'd_ even managed to confuse myself with that analysis.

"Oh," was his ingenious reply. "So..."

"I'm not sure."

"Got it."

We sat in silence for a while longer. It was awkward, hands down. Conversation certainly didn't come as naturally as threats or smart-ass comments for me, so I was unintentionally making it a bit difficult for Delsin. His lips were pursed, trying to figure out something to say that would actually stimulate conversation.

So, I tried instead. "Betty mentioned before that you have a brother," I said.

Delsin gulped. "Had," he corrected me quietly. "Reggie."

"Sorry," I replied. "Must be hard."

"Yeah... We were always together, you know? Even if we didn't see eye to eye, we looked out for each other. Brothers 'til the end, even if he was a cop and I was a no-good delinquent."

"A cop?"

"Sheriff, actually." He paused. "The guys at the station wouldn't let me inside to grab his things. They're... Well, they blame me."

I tapped my fingers again. "What... happened?"

He scoffed and rubbed his eyes. He tried to make it look as casual as possible, but I knew already that he was rubbing away tears. "Big bro came in to save my ass. I should've listened to him, but _no_. He saved me from Augustine's concrete and drowned." He avoided my gaze and stared out the window. "I... Sometimes I look back and I wish I killed that bitch. I wish I killed Hank. But I just... I couldn't. I dunno if it was because I was weak, or because I was strong enough to know Reggie wouldn't have wanted that."

I had no idea who Hank was and I didn't want to pry. I'd already pushed a few too many buttons. I took the time to let him recover from the wounds I'd opened before I tried asking anything else.

"Tell me about the Horsemen," I prompted him. "You said you got your butt kicked when I met you. With Betty there, I mean."

He grumbled. "Oh man, those assholes... So, the grunts are human. Just obsessed with gangs and drugs and all that crap. They also just happen to have a few Conduits as enforcers, which is why the cops and the Dupes can't do anything. In case you haven't noticed, this is bad for us Conduits. It takes one rotten apple to spoil the bunch and all that proverb crap. I figured I'd check out the situation before I met up with Fetch and Gene, just to scout. You know, like Mission: Impossible.

"Well, it didn't go so well. One of the enforcers—they call that freak Zombie. Probably because of the skeleton jaw on the bandana she has tied around her face—she saw me. I hadn't made a sound and she looked right the hell at me, like I'd just danced the Macarena in her face. I practically limped back to Betty. Geezus... Augustine used her powers conservatively, so I guess I just wasn't used to the way Zombie did." He got a determined look on his face. "But I'll be ready next time. No way those dicks are gonna take the place of the Dupes."

"Who're Gene and Fetch?"

"Oh." Delsin smirked shyly. I guess he'd forgotten he hadn't told me. "Eugene Sims and Abigail Walker. Conduits, like us. Gene's got this power over video stuff, so he creates virtual reality. Kinda. And he's good with computers. Which reminds me... He could help us look into what you were doing before you were a goldfish. And Fetch has neon-like powers. Lasers, basically. Just, uh... Try not to piss her off, okay? She's already pretty wound up from the drugs the Horsemen are practically handing out on the streets."

"An activist?"

"One who'll zap you until you're numb." He sighed a bit dramatically, clearly to make a point to me. "That's one thing I miss. Zapping people in the ass and waving around a huge sword. The good old days..."

"Yeah, before your perverted hands touched me."

Delsin rolled his eyes. "Right. _I'm_ the perverted one, miss limping-in-a-lab-coat."

"Well _excuse_ _me_, stuck-in-the-nineties. Prisons don't exactly have a very good clothing choice."

"Prisons?" Delsin repeated. "Were you at Curdan Cay?"

"I heard those scientists mention it... Something about shutting it down."

"I must've just exposed Augustine..." He turned to me. "I went there and freed the Conduits. I never saw you."

I shrugged. "Well, I think I got out before you were there."

"And Gene flew me in, so I doubt I would've seen you."

Nodding, I continued, "And I hardly remember my escape. I remember feeling my fire for the first time and being unable to control it. It was like I was a grenade that already had its pin pulled."

Delsin's lips pursed again, then he raised a finger. "Oh yeah! I remember a fire! It didn't spread so much... The smoke helped out with fighting some of the Dupes there though."

"Glad I could be of service in another way beyond accidentally exploding myself and killing people—."

Delsin's hand covered my mouth, and his dark eyes scanned the seats ahead of us before they settled on me with a sharp glare.

"Wanna talk about killing people a little louder?!" he hissed, removing his hand. "I've just gotten people to stop thinking about the bio-terrorist bit! Do you know how hard that was?!"

I frowned. "I get it. Sheesh, Delsin—!"

The bus suddenly lurched to a stop, screeching its tires at the sudden weight that was tossed forward, and Delsin and I slammed into the seats in front of us with painful cries, but they were nothing compared to the ones the normal people were shrieking. Delsin shook his daze off much faster than me and had begun to scan the situation while I tried to nurse my nose from the blood that was now gushing from a break. Glancing at me, Delsin grabbed a tissue provided by the bus, thrust it at me and leapt overtop of me with a clear "Stay here!" shot over his shoulder.

_Yeah, right,_ I thought, but used the tissue to plug my nose. _Well, just give me a sec and I'll be out there to help! ... Somehow..._

I grabbed a few more tissues and groggily made my way towards the front of bus while I checked on the other passengers. There didn't seem to be any critical injuries for now, but if they weren't treated soon it could easily go south for them.

Their wounds had me wondering what had happened to the bus in the first place, so I continued my trek up the isle and eventually through the doors of the vehicle. The bus driver seemed to have been saved by an airbag, luckily.

From the looks of it, we were halfway across the bridge to Seattle with traffic halted on either side of us. Some people from behind us were rushing forward to help or just trying to get the hell out of there, but from what I couldn't tell.

Not yet, anyhow.

In a puff of black ash Delsin appeared on top of the bus, threw his arms in front of himself defensively and then disappeared again. Screws with sharpened edges embedded themselves into the roof with a loud _thunk!_ just as Delsin reappeared balancing at the bridge railing. It seemed like a cat-and-mouse game with screws tossed at him from every-which-way and no way for him to properly assess his enemy. He needed a distraction, that much was certain.

I found a small rock on the ground and took cover behind the bus, then followed the direction the screws came from. Utilizing the mirrors on the bus I found him—a Conduit using a mad construct of pipes from the bridge's railing as a platform to have him more easily see Delsin. He knew Delsin would never use cover from the bus at the risk of hurting someone without powers.

The African-American Conduit had a sick smile on his face as he watched Delsin's sorry attempts at escape. His dreadlocked hair reminded me of spider legs on his head, which attributed to that creepy glint in his eye.

"Eh, man," goaded the Conduit, "perhaps if you stopped your pussy disappearing act I'd be able to make this go a bit faster!"

Delsin snickered and reappeared behind the Conduit. "Man to man, that won't be a problem!" He grabbed the man and—.

Paused. I bit my lip. What the hell was he waiting for?!

Delsin's teeth gritted just as a pipe, moving and bending around unnaturally like a sea creature's tentacle, wrapped around Delsin's leg and yanked him away from the Conduit to dangle him over the water. He couldn't disappear to get away. _Damn it, Delsin!_

"Friendly bro-hug, man?" the Conduit asked with a superior smirk. He wiped his black sunglasses and slipped them over his eyes. "That how you got those other two bitches to join up with you, bro?"

Making the best of the situation, Delsin shrugged. "To be honest, I thought I'd get your powers and use 'em against you... But I'm stuck with what I've got for now."

The Conduit cackled and clapped his hands together. "Nah, bro! Damn! So you're _that_ motherfucker! Zombie told me all about your bitch-ass attempt to fight!"

Zombie? Del was just talking about that person... I clenched the rock in my fist. "Hey! Asshole!" I chucked it hard at the Conduit's head, and it soared through the air to strike him on the temple, shattering his shades. The cocky grin immediately changed to a snarl and he whirled on me.

And then I realized that I didn't have a plan whatsoever.

"We'll talk later, man," the Conduit growled over his shoulder to Delsin.

But Delsin wasn't done. Utilizing his powers from his palms, he began firing a barrage of powerful smoke clusters with the intent to hit the Conduit, and he did a few times, so the Conduit dropped him. Delsin's eyes widened in panic and he strained to grab onto something, and even tried teleporting, but he was too far out.

"Delsin!" I ran for him, hoping desperately I could catch him.

The Conduit grabbed my arm, and suddenly a screw dug deep into my shoulder. I shrieked in pain, all thoughts of Delsin gone. I was focused solely on that burning, unrelenting hole in my shoulder.

He threw me down as I clutched the wound, my teeth gritting and eyes tearing up. I didn't even have the focus to realize how weak and pathetic I was. I wasn't helpful to Delsin at all. I screwed up his powers, sent him plummeting from the bridge...

But what would self-pity do for me? I had to do _something_!

And then, all of a sudden, there was this massive, booming voice that seemed to shake the very foundations of the bridge.

"How about a homerun, you cowardly dog!"

The Conduit had just enough time to look to where the voice had come from, but the flat of a gargantuan blade struck him with enough force to send him flying hundreds and hundreds of metres away, back into Seattle from whence he came. I watched awe-struck as the blade came to rest on the shoulder of a giant angel-like creature. On his other shoulder was Delsin, who was giving the angel's helmet an appreciative pat.

"Whoo! _Damn_ Gene! You must've of been a damn good hitter in middle school!" Delsin commented briskly while he adjusted his beanie.

"Contrary, Delsin!" the armoured angel replied. "I was the one on the receiving end! It is certainly excellent to dish it out to those who deserve it!"

With a light-hearted chuckle, Delsin offered, "Dude, you don't have to talk like that when you're like this..." and then teleported off of his shoulder and onto the bus, all the while dusting off his vest and shirt.

The armoured angel gestured to my prone body with a mighty finger. "Is this your acquaintance, Delsin?"

"Oh yes, He-Who-Dwells," Delsin replied with a mocking tone, clearly to get his previous sentence across. He jumped down from the bus and took a look at me, and quickly his face turned grim. "Shit... This is stuck in there pretty good..."

"There is medical support back at our base," interjected the giant. "We could—."

"There's other people on the bus, too," Delsin interrupted. "Sorry Joan, but I'm going to have to help them first. They've waited long enough."

I gave a slow but curt nod to him. "I-I know," I agreed. "I'll just... lay here and try not to bleed so much..."

Delsin disappeared for a moment inside the bus, but when he re-emerged he had the bus medkit with him.

"Here." He offered me some gauze. "Put some pressure on it quick. I won't be long."

"What should I do, Delsin?" asked the angel.

Delsin glanced up at him. "Just hold on. We'll be ready to move in a few."

"Oh... Okay, Delsin."


End file.
